


Duality

by ddagent



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Doppelcest, F/F, Not Epilogue Compliant, So glad there was a word for that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 07:03:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17017995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: Cleaves craves a familiar touch. Set post 6.06, in a timeline where both Miranda and her ganger survive.





	Duality

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Doctor Who or any of its characters, or its settings - all belongs to the folks at the BBC.
> 
> This is the penultimate story of mine written during NaNoWriMo '17. I hope you enjoy it!

As a child, Miranda Cleaves had always wanted a sister. Someone to grow up with; someone with whom to share an unbreakable bond. As a teenager, she had longed for a best friend. Someone to share secrets with; someone to join her on adventures. As an adult, she had wanted a lover. Someone to spend her nights with; someone to give her pleasure and receive it in return. But Miranda Cleaves had never had a sister, or a best friend, or a lover past the occasional one night stand. Miranda was used to, and enjoyed, her own company too much to let someone else in.

It would have never occurred to her, all those years working for Morpeth Jetsan, that her ganger would eventually become all three.  

She, _Cleaves,_ was brash and ruthless; sarcastic to a fault. _Miranda_ was softer spoken: easy to tire, but no less sarcastic. To an outsider, they were sisters. They shared the same memories, near enough the same mannerisms. To those who asked, they were best friends. There were no secrets between them. They went everywhere together; travelling on Morpeth Jetsan’s dime and having the adventures they had always longed to take. But they also went to bed together. No one knew her body better than herself, after all.

Tonight was no exception. After a long day spent relaxing under the rays of twin suns, and bathing in deep, blue waters, they had retreated to their hotel room. To their sole, king size bed. Cleaves could taste the salt on Miranda’s neck as her tongue swept across tendons; lips and teeth connecting with the pulse at her throat. Hands skimmed across familiar curves, settling to palm a breast. Years of getting herself off meant Cleaves knew _just_ the right pressure, _just_ the right way to twist. Miranda’s nipple pebbled against the heel of her hand.

“I was trying to sleep,” she grumbled.

Teeth teased her earlobe. “Well, if you _will_ sleep naked…”

That was a trait that Cleaves herself did not possess. As time had passed, the differences between them had only grown. Although they shared memories, Miranda’s recollections were dull, diminished, like a radio from the next room. Every experience was new; every decision made for the very first time. She enjoyed the taste of ketchup with her eggs; loved sleeping bare against cotton sheets. She loved sex. It was Miranda who had initiated things between them. Too much rum, too many shared anecdotes and dirty thoughts. The first time had been indescribable. Familiar fingers inside her cunt. Her tongue moving inside her own mouth. Moans echoing each other until neither could tell where the other began.

It had been intoxicating. Not that Cleaves, at the time, had wanted another hit.

Right now, prejudices forgotten, she slid a hand along Miranda’s stomach. She traced familiar freckles and scars until she brushed the hair at the apex of Miranda's thighs. A hand, mirror to her own, held her in place. “It’s not polite to tease, Cleaves.”

“Really?” She left a kiss along Miranda's collarbone. “Because the face we make when we’re teased is so _bloody_ arousing…gets me wet every time.”    

Cleaves was suddenly flipped onto her back; Miranda straddling her thighs. Like their experiences, their bodies were no longer an exact replica. New scars, freckles, tan lines. It certainly made things more interesting. New places to touch, to run a tongue across. Cleaves wanted to press her mouth to the tan line across Miranda's thighs; wanted to watch a mirror of herself writhe and buck on her own fingers. But Miranda held her firm against the mattress.

“You’re right. That face is _quite_ the turn on.”

Miranda leant down, took Cleaves’ bottom lip between her teeth and _tugged._ Two hands swept over the fabric of her grey t-shirt; Miranda quickly pulling it from her and tossing it aside. Breasts exposed to the cool air, she pinched Cleaves’ nipples until they formed stiff peaks. Peaks she could lick, peaks she could wrap her tongue around. Cleaves, in turn, pulled at Miranda’s hair. She exposed the long column of her neck, licking a stripe with her tongue. It was more, but not enough. She ground herself against Miranda’s thigh, bucking like a wild animal.

“Someone’s desperate,” Miranda teased; lips hot and wet as she left kiss after kiss across the top of her breasts. “Do you want me, Cleaves?”

She groaned, writhing against herself. “You know that I do.”

It hadn’t always been like this between them. After the first time, Cleaves had felt dirty _._ As much as Miranda had tried to reassure her that they’d done nothing wrong, Cleaves could not accept it. Their friendship, a bond not even the Doctor could have predicted when he had left them to face the wolves, had faltered. It wasn’t until Cleaves had tried to satisfy her needs personally that she realised what she truly craved. A familiar touch.

Maybe if she’d put her ganger to better use at St Johns, she wouldn’t have felt so frustrated all the time.   

She was once again pushed to the mattress. Miranda leant in for a long, _deep_ kiss. “I suppose I should give you want you want. Of course, I’d like a little something in return.”

 _“Anything._ ”

Miranda smirked, pulling back so she was once again straddling Cleaves’ hips. Then she turned, bending her head to meet Cleaves' exposed cunt. At the first touch of Miranda’s tongue, her hips bucked. A light smack to her inner thigh sent her reeling.

“ _God_ you are so impatient.”

Cleaves tried to be good. Tried to keep still whilst her lover worked her with her tongue. Soft flicks against her clit. Long strokes against her folds. Probing thrusts inside her, followed by fingers curled just right. Back at St Johns, she’d had a vibrator that had poorly mimicked the motions of a human tongue. Nothing felt quite the same. Nothing felt quite like _this._

But then that tongue stopped. It didn’t start again until Cleaves carried out her end of the bargain. She palmed Miranda’s arse, giving it a soft squeeze before a light smack that sent teeth brushing her clit. Cleaves responded by taking Miranda’s own clit between her lips and sucking _hard_. She pulled back to circle it with the point of her tongue, enjoying the way it swelled and hardened against her lips. Miranda was already wet when she’d begun, now she was dripping. Cleaves had never minded the taste of herself; had often sucked her own fingers clean. Now she couldn’t get enough.

They were mirror images of each other. Miranda’s tongue spreading her wide; fingernails biting into the inner skin of her thighs. Cleaves was sucking on her clit; running her palms across Miranda's hips, her arse. It was the strangest feeling. To have a taste so similar to her own across her tongue; to have the same pressure against her own clit that she applied to Miranda’s. Similar moans filled the room; soft sighs every time they pushed close to the edge. Cleaves could feel her orgasm building, her body tightening, just as Miranda stiffened on top of her.

They came together.

Cleaves writhed against the mattress, holding Miranda close so she could push her to a second, and third, orgasm. When both were sated – chests heaving, bodies wrecked – they joined each other at the head of the bed. They kissed each other, languid swipes of tongues and teeth. But it had been another long day. Sleep claimed Miranda first. She pressed herself against Cleaves’ side; Miranda's head pillowed against her breast, an arm possessively slung over her waist. Cleaves left a kiss atop Miranda’s head and closed her own eyes.

All her life, Miranda Cleaves had been looking for something. Turns out, it was inside herself all along.


End file.
